Author's note: Norway/fem!Sweden with background fem!Denmark/fem!Netherlands. Because Norway can give as good as he gets too. Plus boobs.

Berit

Berit, with her long hair and tight skirt, looks every bit an elegant lady. Lukas intends on changing that, entering the kitchen and pinning her to the counter from behind. Blonde hair falls in front of her face, the Norwegian pushing it back over her opposite shoulder to better be able to kiss her neck.

There's a moan from the beautiful woman before she manages to turn in his arms, wrapping hers around his neck. Sea green eyes behind square glasses blink, a slight smile present that's only for him. "What are you doing beloved?"

A hand reaches out to stroke her face, Berit's eyes closing as she pushes against his palm. The Swedish nation wears her hair long and straight and down for him, because it drives Lukas wild like he never thought possible. As his hand runs down her neck to her chest, slowly unbuttoning her cardigan and blouse, he remembers the first time he saw her after many months apart, where he had filled out his shoulders and she had filled out her chest. Mother Nature had been kind to Berit in that department, there was no doubt as he frees the last of the buttons, pushing the fabric open to take in her dark bra and pale skin.

Most women Lukas looked at and found hideous, telling himself he could never be attracted to them. When he looked at Berit his mind went blank and all he wanted to do was make love to her.

She's pulled to him as Lukas kisses her, Berit pressing her chest against his. Hands squeeze her ass, poorly hidden by her pencil skirt; Berit had a phenomenally great ass from her strict exercise regiment, all round and tight and perfect in his hands.

Berit moans again but then both their phones ring and they know that means this is important, stealing one last kiss before separating to see whatever message had been sent out in a hurry.

He's out in the backyard, dressed in pressed pants and a patterned sweater, when Berit calls out to him. "Lukas, I'm ready when you are." Turning the Norwegian walks slowly back to the house, taking in Berit now in her long and flowing coat; the clothes beneath remained tight but she loved that coat with its lace and coloring like the Swedish flag.

Lips kiss lips, the man being sure to elicit a moan from his lover before they head for the car out front waiting to take them to the airport.

Kirsten is asleep at the meeting table; looking around it seems a lot of nations are. It had taken till nearly one in the morning CET to get everyone together and despite the German nation's best intentions of getting business over with now, most had elected to go back to bed wherever they were.

Not Berit on Lukas's other side, wide awake and taking notes. She's the epitome of class and Lukas still wants to change that, to fuck her hard against their kitchen counter, to make her scream and cry out and come, again and again, because he loves her and doesn't want her to ever forget how much he loves her. He wants the whole world to know that she was his and his alone.

They hold hands beneath the table, the Dane accidentally spinning in her chair to lay her head against Lukas's shoulder. Emil keeps blinking, as if that would keep him awake, and Timo is sliding down his chair, already passed out. The meeting seems to take forever.

Crashing in the Dutch woman's apartment, Kirsten and Marina immediately go back to the main bedroom to sleep and do other lascivious things Lukas found more appealing than he would ever admit aloud. Berit, her mind now reeling from the meeting, makes two cups of coffee that they have on the couch, legs mixed together.

"Hey," the Swede says, looking into her mug but her face bright as if she'd had an idea. "Want to fuck me on Marina's couch?"

Lukas doesn't have to think long before downing his coffee and giving his girlfriend his answer. She sighs as he lays her down on the posh piece of furniture, the Norwegian intent on finally having his way with Berit.

They stroll the town, hand in hand. Lukas doesn't mind that in her heels Berit is slightly taller than him; a lesser man might have been self-conscious but he wasn't a lesser man. He buys her a flower that catches her eye, takes her to the museum, and after as they prepare to head back home, crisis resolved, Berit pauses to look at him. The Norwegian raises an eyebrow to silently ask what was going on but the Swede only shakes her head, pressing her lips sweetly to his.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

She kisses him again and Lukas understands.